


Fog

by soulcircuit_archivist



Category: Koko wa Greenwood | Here is Greenwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-13
Updated: 2004-09-13
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:31:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulcircuit_archivist/pseuds/soulcircuit_archivist
Summary: by Kiri





	Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Soul Circuit](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Soul_Circuit), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Soul Circuit collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/soulcircuit/profile).

Fog.  
  
It's gray, hot, interfering with my vision.  
  
It's not actually fog. It's steam. But it amounts to the same thing.  
  
The water of the shower is streaming rivulets onto my bare skin, coursing off my shoulders, cleaning my filthy body.  
  
His face keeps glinting in my mind, silver, or gray, like fog.  
  
The water is scalding. I'll be red when I step out. I don't want to get out though.  
  
When I get out, I'll have to face him.  
  
I grab my shampoo from its resting place, pouring a liberal amount into the palm of my hand, cold against the heat  
  
_-of his body-_  
  
of the shower, and rub it into my hair. My mother bought this shampoo for me. I wonder if she would be ashamed of me.  
  
I rinse my hair, darkened by the gentle touch of water, smelling now like citrus and flowers. He liked my hair, he said. Had said.  
  
It's not that I don't want to face him. Well... it is that I don't want to face him, but not that I don't want to see him.  
  
Although seeing his face in my mind like this is getting wearisome.  
  
There's something about the feel of skin against skin that's softer than even silk against oneself, or water. I'm probably steaming up the mirrors in the bathroom, but I don't care. I like how the heat makes my back  
  
_-arch up against his body-_  
  
feel numb, as if my skin had forgotten how to feel.  
  
I rub my arms with the soap, watching the lather careen off my body, like suicidal divers, sliding down my arms with imprecise motions, smoothly  
  
_-running his hands over my chest-_  
  
flying through the air to their destruction.  
  
The heat in the middle of my body is becoming increasingly persistent.  
  
We were drunk, of course. I'm a lightweight, which both of us knew, but I had been drunk before, so I had known what to expect. He hadn't.  
  
It started out innocently enough, just watching videos in our room, the two of us and Shun and Hasukawa, some random videos that Shun had managed to find somewhere. That boy had a knack for finding something, anything, to keep him from homework, and yet he still passed. I'll have to discover how, eventually.  
  
The amount of alcohol that was consumed steadily increased, until I was feeling more than a bit giddy. I had never seen Shinobu drink that much, but then again, I had never seen Shun or Hasukawa drink that much either. It was after our younger neighbors stumbled off to bed that he gave me that cat-like smile, tinged with something else, and his hands  
  
_-touching me everywhere, lingering longer some places than others-_  
  
indicated that I should sit next to him on the bed.  
  
I can't ignore the throbbing in my midsection anymore. Gingerly, I reach a hand down, soothing my need the only way I know how.  
  
Lonely, but efficient. He would be proud.  
  
~  
  
He rose early this morning, for once before me. I, of course, pretended to be sleeping, to spare him that shame I know will color his cheeks today.  
  
But now I am up, sitting at my desk, flipping through the pages of my notebooks idly. I don't need to study today. It is, of course, an excuse.  
  
I have already decided on my course of action.  
  
He steps in, his robe wrapped tightly around his body, and he sees me. His face is close to the same shade of his eyes, and I hold myself back from closing my own. There was no way he could have known how lovely he would be last night, how I would savor those moments of his muffled cries, how I would bury them in the back of my mind as something to remember only to myself.  
  
He is changing into dry clothes rather furtively. I blatantly ignore him. My notebook has suddenly become the focal point of my existence.  
  
His voice is tight as he seats himself, on my bed, now neatly made. "You're feeling better this morning?"  
  
I turn to him slowly, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "Better?"  
  
I'm making him uncomfortable. I know that, and I feel guilty, but it will be better this way. He clears his throat. "Yeah... you drank an awful lot."  
  
I would not tell him that it had been water. "Besides that I don't remember anything about last night after that second video, yes, quite well. Surprisingly well, actually."  
  
He looks startled, violet eyes wide and disbelieving, but I think I catch of hint of relief in them. Good, Mitsuru. You don't need me to shame you with this.  
  
"You... don't remember?" he asks me, and there is a hint of something else in his voice, something I did not recognize, staining the relief.  
  
I shake my head, rueful. "Unfortunately, no. I assume I passed out." If he wants his anonymity, I will give it to him. I would give him anything. Last night had merely been a slip of my self-control. A pre-meditated slip, of course, but a slip nonetheless.  
  
His eyes are still staring at me, and then they break away, looking towards my bed, and that strange tone is in his voice again. "Yeah, you did. I was worried."  
  
I wonder if the lie hurt him as much as it hurt me.  
  
I smile faintly at him. "Thank you. But I'm doing fine this morning." Water, of course, does not give hangovers.  
  
"That's good," he says, but he does not sound like he really thinks it is good at all. This puzzles me.  
  
He's silent a long moment, unusual, so I have to break the silence myself. "And you? You're feeling better?"  
  
He stands, suddenly seeming uncomfortable to be sitting on my bed. I don't blame him. "Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
A quick answer, a bit too quick. I turn in my chair towards him. "I have aspirin if you want it."  
  
He shakes his head. "No, really. I'm fine."  
  
I want to ask him why he won't meet my eyes, but I know full well, and I don't want this to turn into a fight. I simply let it go, my eyes drifting back to the pages of the notebook.  
  
Hands are suddenly on my shoulders, the touch somewhere between pinning me down and reassuring me. I turn my head slightly towards him. "Mitsuru?"  
  
"You really don't remember anything?" he asks quietly, closing himself off to me.  
  
I hesitate momentarily, but then recall myself, eluding his question easily. "Should I?"  
  
He doesn't move for a moment, but then rather jerkily pulls away, moving toward the door. "No." His voice is flat, dead. I want to reach out to him, to tell him everything, to tell him my feelings, but his voice cuts into my thoughts. "I'm going out."  
  
All I can do is nod as I watch him go.  
  
~  
  
He lied to me.  
  
Blatantly and outright lied.  
  
After all that.  
  
I'm fuming, pacing back and forth. It's all I can do to keep from going back to my room and hitting him.  
  
I need to calm down. This is ridiculous.  
  
I lean my head against the wall. I'm in the hallway, but it's still early, so few people are up. The wall is cold and I feel it sapping away some of the heat in my body.  
  
He lied.  
  
I think I understand though. If he doesn't remember, there's nothing for either of us to feel bad about. In some twisted, cold type of logic, it makes sense.  
  
But it hurts.  
  
I take a slow, deep breath. He had been so sure that I didn't realize his lie. So calm, so controlled. So cold. I'm almost desperate for a hint of the young man I saw last night, that masking demeanor lying in a shattered pile at the foot of his bed, our bodies intertwined.  
  
Mitsuru, sit next to me, and his voice was soft, warmer than I'd ever heard. I'm not sure whether the blur the alcohol was making of my vision was the cause, but I could have almost sworn there was something more in his eyes than the usual green wall. I sat, and the next few minutes are all a fuzzy mix for me. I remember him saying something, words that I had not expected, but I can't remember what they were, nor can I remember my response. After that brief exchange, the next thing I remember is him on top of me, our clothes somehow at the foot of the bed or on the floor, discarded, his breath pulsing in my ear, mingling with my heartbeat throbbing through my body. I remember him whispering my name into my lips, but I don't remember being surprised that he was kissing me. After all, why should I have been? It was he who had plagued my dreams for the past few years, those dreams from which I had always awoken with a start, hot, and unable to rectify that with him sleeping below me.  
  
His fingers were so deft, so sure, so gentle, treating my responsive body as if it were his personal toy, a living doll. Admittedly, I did not mind too much, especially at the time, my mind fogged with the delusions of requited love. When I was by myself, I got the job done, but what he did was prolong it, keeping my body tight, tense, until he himself had release, and then he let me. I never knew hands could do that, could make anyone feel like that, dulled even though I was by the alcohol.  
  
He was so sure.  
  
I smile slightly to myself, a thought idling through my mind.  
  
How easy he made it for me.  
  
I pick myself up from against the wall, and start toward my room. Our room. My hand pauses momentarily on the knob and I take a deep breath.  
  
~  
  
"Back so soon?" I greet him cordially. The quick look in his eyes freeze the rest of the words in my mouth solid.  
  
"I thought," he starts, and now he isn't looking at me, but his body is tense, "that I could trust you, Shinobu."  
  
The words sting, like when the ice sprays off a snowball as it flies past you, little needles into your skin. I force my face to keep still. "You can, Mitsuru." I add a dash of confusion into my voice for good measure.  
  
He doesn't buy it. Funny, maybe I've never given him enough credit. He steps are paced, measured, until he is right in front of me. His right hand is suddenly on my shoulder, holding me in place. I look up at him, somewhat annoyed by this intrusion, but all protests I could have made are blown away when I see his eyes.  
  
~  
  
He almost looks frightened. That's not what I wanted.  
  
I soften my gaze slightly, easing the hardness in my eyes, but not the edge in my voice. "What am I to you, Shinobu?" Even if I force the truth out of him, it will be better than never getting it, better than this awful flaunted false ignorance he was giving me.  
  
This must be the first time I have seen him stammer. "Mitsuru... I..."  
  
"Please."  
  
Whether my single word moves him, or he understands the need burning in my eyes, he responds.  
  
~  
  
I have never been one to mince words. "I love you," I say simply, quite prepared for the rejection I half-expect to see breeze through his eyes before he drops a wall there to me forever.  
  
He does look surprised though, and I continue to watch him, silent. It's his choice now, his move. His pawn has cornered my queen. I wait for whether he opts to take that or not.  
  
He, of course, catches me off-guard. His voice is strangely rough, yet tender, and his eyes have something in them I see only rarely. "Then why aren't you kissing me?"  
  
~  
  
He's almost staring, I think, and I smile, then dip my head forward, my hand still in place on his shoulder, holding him there. My lips brush his lightly, and I feel him almost pull away, but I tighten my grip and kiss him harder. Of course he's surprised. I'm surprised. But somehow... this feels right, inexplicably right. His breath is sweet, like oranges, which assuredly he had snacked on while I was in the shower. He is suddenly kissing me back, with much more fervor than I had expected of him. Our first sober kiss. I'm not complaining.  
  
It seems neither is he, for he's pulling me closer.  
  
~  
  
Our position is rather awkward, so I stand, leaning into him, our lips joined firmly yet sweetly, and I shyly twine my arms around him, seeking the closeness we had shared last night. It's funny how he makes me lose my guard, and I fear that he may even make me blush. But that doesn't matter right now. He is kissing me, of his own free will. I finally have to break off the kiss for a moment, gasping in air, stunned and almost disbelieving, but the light in his eyes is purely mischievous. "Am I too much for you, Shinobu?" he asks, and despite the chide, there's a gentle undercurrent in his tone. The edges of my lips curve slightly in response before I kiss him again, lightly, teasingly, then move my lips off his.  
  
~  
  
Oh, God, he's kissing my neck... I shut my eyes, letting sensation overwhelm me for a moment, and, dizzy, find myself almost falling. He pulls away for a moment, forest eyes searching. "Mitsuru?"  
  
I look back at him, that same fire gnawing in my belly as it had in the shower, despite the recent quenching it had received earlier. I'm wondering if I can even gather enough breath to speak when he notices, and a small smile passes over his lips.  
  
"I can fix that, you know..." he offers, and I feel myself almost blush.  
  
"Well, it's your fault, so you'd better," I say thickly, finally.  
  
He does grin at that, that peculiar closed-eyed cat-like smile he is so fond of, and then steps towards me. "It'll be my pleasure."  
  
~  
  
Which, of course, it will be, but it will certainly be his pleasure too. I will see to that. As I lean forward for another kiss, my hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt, cursing him for not wearing a T-shirt today, or for not still being in that easily removed robe. Of course, this makes the wait longer and the journey sweeter, so I really have no right to be upset. After a moment, I notice that his hands are working at my pajama top, and much more deft are his fingers than mine. He's quick to slide the shirt off me, and his hands move to my shoulders. I feel almost small next to him. His hands are much larger than mine, though my fingers are longer, and they seem to fit just right on my shoulders, as if made for them. I smile beneath the kiss at such a silly thought, but it somehow reassures me. I hear him murmur something, and as if on cue, we both start toward the bed, discarding these teasing gestures of standing together.  
  
~  
  
Somehow, in a blur, my shirt is off and he's tugging at my belt, telling me it would be easier with this off, but I silence him with a kiss. Funny, it seems rather natural now, as if we had been like this the entire time. Sort of smirking at him, I just push him to a sitting position on his bed, then lean down, kissing him harder, forcing him to lay on the bed on his back. He had his fun last night. It was my turn now.  
  
~  
  
I must admit, I certainly did not expect this. Mitsuru, instigating the kiss, and now this?  
  
He's gleaming above me, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his toned athlete's body, that body that I had studied so long and carefully before making any move on him, framing that quick, intelligent, caring mind that I saw in his eyes.  
  
Although what I see in his eyes right now is a different story. Need, pure and simple, fills their depths. And who am I to refuse that?  
  
~  
  
He is like an unconquered land, a fresh expanse of territory, and I seek to claim that with my hands, with my lips. I let my mouth wander from his, dipping lower, lingering on his neck as he has done to me, tracing his collarbone lightly with my tongue. His breathing is starting to get heavier and I take this as a good sign. One of his hands rests lightly on my back and the other is grasping the bedspread beside us in clenched fingers. His eyes are closed tightly, his face tense. I smile, flick a nipple with my tongue, and pause, letting him savor his unfulfilled feeling. Gray-green eyes open suddenly at the loss of contact, and he echoes my words from earlier. "Please..."  
  
After all, he asked so nicely.  
  
~  
  
He leaves one hand almost innocently on my nipple, but that doesn't remain so for long. As his mouth wanders further, teasingly, down my body, his fingers start to caress my chest. His tongue hovers momentarily above my belly button, pressing kisses against the admittedly rather soft flesh there -- he is the athlete, not I -- and I squeeze my eyes shut, my grip on his shoulder tightening unintentionally, but this seems to encourage him. Almost eagerly, his hands leave his chest, and focus on the waistband of my pants. Suddenly, he pauses.  
  
I grind my eyes open to look at him, confused.  
  
His voice is soft, unsure. "This is... all right?"  
  
I almost laugh, but can't quite bring myself to do so in the present state. "Of course." Such plain, common words, at such an uncommon time.  
  
But he seems to take it in stride, easily slipping the pajamas over my hips. And then, as suddenly as he had stopped, I feel enveloped in delicious warmth, and arch upward, letting out a gasp.  
  
~  
  
It's not pleasant at first. For a moment, I feel like I'm gagging, but then I regain control over myself. That reaction had been worth it. Testing a theory, I pull my mouth away a moment.  
  
Sure enough, he cracks open an eye. "Please... don't stop..." and his voice breaks slightly. I grin, rather pleased. It's interesting to see him like this, hot and needing, instead of exuding his normal chilly exterior.  
  
I could get used to this.  
  
I take him into my mouth again, cautious this time. He does not react quite so strongly, but I'm glad I had prepared, because he starts rocking back and forth slightly. I time myself in rhythm to his movement, attempting to add some stimulation with my tongue, wondering if I'm having any positive effects.  
  
~  
  
I'm going to burst. I'm simply going to burst into a million pieces of tension and fire and burn down the world. I can't feel anything except heat and warmth and Mitsuru, so close to me, on top of me, around me, inside of me, everywhere. My hand is clutching his shoulder, almost for dear life, and from nowhere the heat suddenly crashes into a wave. I try to warn him. "Mitsuru -- I --" But it's too late, my hips jerking skyward of their own free will. I'm too busy to notice his reaction, my breath gasping and caught in my throat simultaneously. I'm fairly sure I'm shaking, but am too distracted to tell for sure.  
  
~  
  
I wipe my mouth, amused. Well. That had certainly been an experience. But seeing Shinobu like this now...  
  
He is glossed by a fine sweat, like dew, faint over his skin. I could see some of the veins on his stomach and I reach down a hand, tracing them lightly with my finger. His eyes flutter open, looking foggy, confused. But he smiles slowly. "Mitsuru..."  
  
I grin at him. "Aa," I answer affably, though the dissatisfaction my groin area is feeling is slightly overwhelming.  
  
He sits slowly, as if unsure of his steadiness, and looks at me, the fog slowly clearing from his eyes as if sunlight had hit them. He points to the bed, indicating I should lay where he had been. I raise a hand to tell him if he doesn't want to, it's all right, but as soon as I open my mouth, he's kissing me.  
  
"Shinobu, I--" I start to protest, wondering if he really wants to kiss me, knowing where my mouth has been, but he doesn't stop and gently pushes me down, much the way I had him.  
  
"Now," he murmurs softly. "It's your turn."  
  
~  
  
I am almost asleep in his arms when I heard Shun's voice dance down the hallway. "Yeah, it was foggy this morning, but it really cleared up!"  
  
"Is the ground wet?" I hear Hasukawa's voice answer, and then a pause.  
  
"Yeah, a little," Shun answers. "Wear your waterproof shoes then! Hurry up! The store opens at ten!"  
  
Hasukawa grumbles something, passing outside our door, and I shift slightly, leaning my head against the comforting warmth of Shinobu's shoulder. Foggy indeed.  
  
~owari~


End file.
